


Off Days

by rivlee



Series: Live Fast, Die Old [14]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barca just doesn't get the hang of that whole rest-and-relaxation bit. Part of the <i>Live Fast, Die Old</i> 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaygreekgladiator (ama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/gifts).



Barca Elissa was a man of routine; he woke up at the same time each week day; he taught the same classes; he ate lunch at the same hour Monday through Friday; he was very much a mindless automaton from six in the morning until six or seven at night. His routine varied a little each day based on what subject he was teaching; what marvelous responses his students came up with; whether or not Pietros had to cover someone’s shift at the café; if Crixus needed an emergency jogging or sparring partner; if Auctus needed an emergency move-my-shit grunt; if Duro called in a panic saying a kitten was stuck in a tree and Barca with a stepstool equaled any fireman’s ladder; all were little variations to his schedule.

Spring Break for the university saw all that go to shit. Barca’s body still naturally woke-up in a panic at his normal time. He would always jump right out of bed thinking he’d overslept until a tired Pietros dragged him back under the covers by his hair. He’d get restless during the day and end up bothering the two men he knew had too much leisure time; with Gannicus it ended in drinking and karaoke; with Auctus it ended with getting conned into moving drafting tables and photography equipment from one level of his building to another. He couldn’t even bother Crixus because he and Naevia always used the week off to do a mini-tour. 

So Dr. Barca Elissa, Professor of World Literature, found himself sitting on the floor of _Bleat Beats_ thumbing through music magazines and cringing at the horrible grammar bleeding from their pages. Duro was beside him, humming Heart’s _These Dreams_ off-key, as he went through an inventory checklist.

“Do you really count all the magazines?” Barca asked. 

Duro nodded. “The lady who works for the delivery service reminds me of my Grandma. I can’t have her throwing her back out to get through the artistic piece of shit Agron calls a magazine rack. I don’t mind doing it; it lets me know what magazines are more likely to be stolen. If it gets too bad, I pull the whole stack and keep them behind the counter just to be an ass.” 

Barca laughed. “Of course you do.”

Duro raised an eyebrow; the piercing there glinted under the low-level store lights. It was a recent acquisition. While it fit Duro’s whole style, Barca prayed he wouldn’t influence Pietros into some unfortunate body modification decision. Barca still wasn’t over the navel piercing.

“Don’t make me throw you out for loitering, jackass,” Duro said.

Barca swatted at him with the magazine. “Who would entertain you if I was gone?”

Duro shrugged. “I’d just call Auctus and make him bring Moose down for a visit. It’s a rainy Monday morning during Spring Break. No one’s coming into this shop until the afternoon at least; even then they’ll buy something from the Used DVD section so it’s not like I have to be a knowledgeable employee.”

Duro was a smart kid; Barca had come to realize it even more since he got involved with Auctus. He was always one of those vague presences in Barca’s life. Pietros had few close friends, but Duro was one of the oldest. Barca had once mistaken Duro’s lack of academic motivation as lack of intelligence. Part of him was still a snob about that, he knew; he hated to see a keen mind in what he felt was a dead-end job. He’d seen Duro completely rewire Crixus’ whole house and it had yet to go up in flames, so it was clear the kid knew a thing or two. Duro deserved more in life, but Barca knew it wasn’t his place to say anything. Hell, Pietros was just starting to really dedicate himself to a career path in Special Education. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for Duro to find his own way as well. 

“May I ask you a question?”

Duro snorted. “Oooh, _may_ , you’re getting all fancy. Yeah, Barca, shoot.”

Barca gestured to the store. “Is this really what you want in life?”

“Yup,” Duro said. There was no hesitation at all to his answer. Barca’s face must’ve looked as stunned as he felt, because Duro started laughing. “I’ve been asked that question many times by a lot of fucking people. I know; who would _willingly_ work retail, right? Look, I’m never going to be a suit-and-tie guy like you, Dr. Elissa. Here I’m basically my own boss. I can take a leave for weeks and still be employed without any bullshit from upper-management. I like talking to people and sharing my knowledge if they ask. I like being able to promote local acts through the store. Hell, I even like putting all the pins, buttons, badges, and magnets on the display because they make me laugh. It’s not a career for everyone; but it’s the one for me. You were meant to be a smart-ass professor. Pietros is going to be one of those guys who wins a National Teacher of the Year Award because empathy seeps out of his pores. Auctus is meant for art; Naevia for music; Gannicus for being independently wealthy off all that money he made as a model, and me? I’m meant for this. Music scene is always going to be in my blood; this is my way of keeping it there.” 

Barca respected that pragmatic sense to life about Duro. He was one of the few men Barca knew who could be both so childlike and so fucking serious at the same time. He really was perfectly matched with Auctus; that realization took a major weight off Barca’s shoulders. He patted Duro’s knee. “I feel like a coffee. I’d offer you one, but I won’t be back.”

“Just don’t traumatize poor Sibyl again,” Duro said. 

“No promises,” Barca said as he left.

As he stepped out into the street, he wished he’d remembered a jacket. He rarely wore one when he wasn’t in a suit or blazer; deviation from the routine fucked him over in all the major and minor ways. The rain wasn’t too heavy, so he couldn’t complain that much over a chilly breeze and some cool temperatures.

“Barca Frederick Elissa, where the _hell_ is your coat,” greeted him when he entered _Nightingale_.

“Love you too,” he quipped as he leaned over the counter for a kiss. 

Pietros frowned. “Assholes who try to get pneumonia don’t deserve kisses.”

Barca leaned on his elbows and rested his chin in his hands. “What about terribly confused professors who don’t know what to do without the hallowed halls of education around them?”

Pietros rolled his eyes, but he leaned in for a kiss, so Barca counted it as a win. Pietros tasted like cinnamon and vanilla. He’d been sampling the products again. 

“You’re supposed to serve the coffee, not drink it,” Barca admonished.

“You’re supposed to buy something, not hog my counter space,” Pietros shot back. He wrapped a few of Barca’s braids around his fingers. “I’ll get you the usual. Your laptop is in my locker in the back, along with the notes for your next five lectures.”

Barca grinned. His husband knew him so well. “I love you for indulging my workaholic tendencies.”

Pietros nodded. “At least here I can watch over you and make you take breaks when you start ranting at other scholars’ interpretations.”

“Just remember that they’re all wrong and I am awesome,” Barca teased. It was the first phrase that Pietros blurted out when he witnessed the first of many academia-related rants. 

Pietros flicked Barca’s ear. “Just for that, you get the sugar free pie.”

Barca tilted Pietros’ chin up for another quick kiss. “All the sugar I need is right here.”

They both ignored the gagging sounds coming from Nasir’s regular corner table in the back.


End file.
